Lundy Knows
by Meatball
Summary: A quick fic about Lundy's thoughts and the decisions that he makes while waiting for Deb at the airport. Based on the tv show, not the books. This is my own take on it. Please, read & review...thank you, & enjoy! :-


Title: Lundy Knows

Author: Meatball

Rating: PG for language

Summary: While sitting at the airport waiting for Deborah, Lundy does a lot of thinking.

Author's Note: This is based on the tv series, not the books. It's just my personal take on things, it's probably not how Lundy's character would actually behave. I just like thinking that he would do this, that's all, and I hate to see him and Deborah apart. Cheers! J

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Goddamned pillowtalk!

If Deborah hadn't mentioned that one little thing, I might never have been sure. Might never have had to, shall we say, skip town.

I wouldn't be sitting here in this crazy, noisy airport, waiting for a plane that I really don't need to catch. There is no other case waiting for me. I lied. I lied to Deborah because I needed to get away from Dexter. Yes, from Dexter.

Oh, I noticed all the odd things about him. Of course I did. I am the "rock star", after all. But did I point a finger at him?

Nope.

And why not? Because I've been madly attracted to his sister from almost the very moment that I laid eyes on her? Possibly. Because at least three times that I can remember, he was just so obvious that it was, perhaps, too obvious? All the red flags that I conveniently chose to ignore…

When I interviewed him about his cases, for instance. Talk about "deer in the headlights".

And in the railroad car...he tried to come off as casual, mildly interested. In fact, he tried too hard. I chalked it up to nerves, to stress. I liked him too much. And I liked his sister. I liked her way too much.

And when he handled the case of slides containing blood samples so comfortably. He was surprised to see them, but he wasn't curious. Because of my feelings for his sister, I dismissed that little red flag...if I hadn't been so convinced that Doakes was the killer...

He didn't have me fooled. He was hiding something. He's just not that good. It was my fault. I was oblivious.

But I snapped out of my fog last night, in bed with Deborah. Some people murmur post-coital sweet nothings. Not Deborah. If she isn't whispering sexually-explicit, delightfully-racy comments into my ear, then she's vulnerably soul-searching. I'd almost drifted off into an unbelievably happy stupor when she said something that jolted me awake with the impact of a taser.

She mentioned how Rudy, a.k.a. The Ice Truck Killer, had asked her (while choking her) how she (being a police officer, after all) had failed to spot him for what he really was. The answer to her question slammed into my drowsy mind like a battering ram.

_She hadn't recognized the serial killer in front of her because she'd spent her entire life growing up with one._

Oh God!

Never have I spent a night like I did last night. Awake and aware and tingling the entire time, the woman whom I love -- yes, _love _-- sleeping peacefully beside me.

Not knowing that her own brother is the Bay Harbor Butcher.

It's nearly six o'clock, and Deborah hasn't shown up here at the airport yet.

God, I love Deborah. I've never felt like this before.

I don't know what to do.

I've spent my whole life fighting crime. Catching killers.

Doakes' death has closed the case. As far as everyone is concerned, the Bay Harbor Butcher is dead and gone. No more bogeyman.

Dexter, however, is still at large. He's free to kill again.

To kill...other killers.

To save innocent lives.

Deborah will be destroyed if her beloved brother is revealed.

If I do my job, I'll destroy Deb. And to her, I'll always be the man who destroyed her brother.

If I do my job, Dexter will stop killing killers.

If I do my job, more innocent people will die.

If I don't do my job, a killer walks free, innocent lives will be spared, and Deborah won't be destroyed.

There are times when I really hate my job.

My cell phone rings. I let it ring. I know it's Deborah, and I don't want to hear what she has to say. She's not here -- isn't that sufficient? Is there a need for painful explanations? Maybe she's decided that I am too old for her, after all…

Six-fifteen. I really should be boarding that plane.

That's not Deb's way, though. To dump someone over the phone. Not Deb. Her way of ditching someone is to throw them through the nearest wall, to scream, "Eat shit and die, motherfucker!!" while watching their body plummet five stories. I chuckle at the mental image, then I realize that if Deb's not calling to dump me, she's calling for some other reason…either she's held up in traffic, or…or something's wrong… I whip my cell phone out of my pocket, and check my voice mail.

I listen to Deborah, tearful and frantic and furious. Dexter's girlfriend's kids are missing, and Deb and Dexter are searching for them, along with half of Miami's police force. Deborah won't be able to make the flight, but she is still going to join me. She's going to call me back later, but right now, she really needs to find those kids. She has a hunch where they might be, though. Right now, Dexter is going out of his mind with worry. The Bay Harbor Butcher is going all out to save more innocent lives.

If I do what's right, it's wrong.

If I do what's wrong, it's right.

I close my eyes, and sigh.

I make my decision.

I've spent most of my life chasing and catching killers, only to watch them get out early on parole, or overcrowding, or any other stupid reason. I'm so goddamned tired of it.

Time to hand over the reins to the younger generation. One member of the younger generation, in particular. One who does the job right. One who gets results.

You know, I think I would have liked their father. I wish I'd met him.

I press speed-dial on my cell phone, and a hatefully-familiar voice answers on the third ring. I speak quickly, overriding anything he might have to say. Gone are the days when I have to listen to that damned idiot.

"Hello, Deputy Director. This is Frank Lundy. I quit. I resign. Kaput. Gone. I'm done. Goodbye."

Oh God, that felt good! I feel twenty years younger, and I laugh in sheer delight.

As I head over to retrieve my luggage and locate a decent hotel room, I decide to stay in Miami a while longer, to keep an eye on...things. And then, once I feel that everything is okay here, I'm going to ask Deborah to marry me and to move to Michigan with me. I've got a beautiful, thousand square foot cottage on pristine lakefront property, not too far away from Detroit, but just far enough. She'll be able to keep in touch with Dexter, but we won't have to see him very often. Out of sight, out of mind (for the most part).

_Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil._

Sounds good to me.


End file.
